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“Never give a sword to a man who can’t dance,” I recited Confucius as we slowed down. She pinched her eyebrows together, breathing hard. “Why?” “Because a weapon of death shouldn’t be in the hand of someone who hasn’t lived.” You can’t speak for a world when you only understand one point of view.
“I want to kill anyone for trying to take you away from me.” I reached my hands around her ass, feeling the strap of blades around her leg, and lifted her into my arms. “If I ever leave you, it’s because I’m dead.”
“A good parent has happy kids,” she whispered in my ear. “Our kids are so happy.”
A key hung from the lock on the window, a small scroll of paper tucked in the chain. I looked around the room, wondering who it belonged to. Reaching up, I unhooked the chain from the lock, holding the skeleton key in my hand and pulling the paper out of the link. Unrolling it, I read black handwriting. “The chords of the heart need to be touched to be played.”
No one is immune to emotion when those chords are pulled. No one. I closed my eyes, feeling the blood under my nails as I wrapped my cold fingers around the key.
One night soon. While everyone was asleep. We’ll find out what the key unlocks, Octavia. We’ll own the night.
